March 1, 2009 Des Moines

Psalm 25:1-10

 

Tune My Heart to Sing Thy Grace

        Well, there was that whole problem with the neighbor's wife.  We like to remember David as the hero king of Israel – the progenitor of Israel's “Camelot” days when all was well and all was good in ways that only later unraveled and fell apart.  After all, wasn't the coming Messiah – the one that everyone was waiting for – supposed to be of the “house and lineage” of David – “like” David in every way, not just family tree?  The answer, of course, is finally “yes,” but it is a good bit more complicated than that.  Enter “the neighbor's wife.” 

            David certainly knew better.  I mean, there it is, right there on the tablets Moses had brought down from the mountain:  “You shall not covet your neighbor's wife.”  But somehow springtime, or boredom, or opportunity, or arrogance, or perhaps simply hormones got the better of him.  Or maybe King David had simply fallen into a style of rulership in which he behaved like a law unto himself -- prefiguring by centuries Richard Nixon’s retort to journalist David Frost, that “when the President of the United States does it, it isn’t illegal.” 

            The neighbor, of course, was away on official business, which created the “opportunity.”  And then there was that blue sky and the warm sun and the tall, sweating glass of iced tea.  So it was that one day Bathsheba was out in her backyard getting a tan, and the next day she was “interning” in the Oval Office.  So to speak.

            Who knows just how David's song had gotten so off key.  There had been such promising beginnings – that whole sling shot and rock business against Goliath, the Philistine giant; there was getting selected from among his brothers to replace Saul as King, despite his age and inexperience; there was his early integrity and nobility.  It had all started off so well.  But it happens, you know.  Fluctuations in temperature – even spiritual temperature – can cause all kinds of things to go out of tune. 

            And so it was with David – a reckless appetite carelessly indulged, that led to death, dishonor, sexual misconduct and abuse.  Eventually confronted with his sin – with how “discordant” he had become – he was driven into contrition.  Tradition has characterized Psalm 51 as coming from David in the throws of this remorse:  Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.  Or, to put it into different terms, “help me get back in tune.”

            It isn't just a prayer for kings.  We all get out of tune from time to time – sometimes becoming stretched too tight by stress that we go sharp and shrill; sometimes going loose and slack and rattling without any real character at all.  Useful, then, this annual season in the church's way of arranging time whose sole purpose it is to listen carefully for the Gospel pitch and how it is reverberating in our own discipleship.

            Throughout this particular season of Lent we will be using as our prayerful guide the confessions and supplications of the familiar hymn, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.  Maybe you haven't thought of it as a prayer before, but look more carefully at its lyrics and you will see that's precisely what it is. 

            The hymn was written by a man named Robert Robinson who apparently lived in some need of prayer.  Born to poor parents in a small town in England, Robinson's father died while the boy was only eight.  When he was fourteen, Robinson's mother sent him to London where he was apprenticed to learn the barbering trade.  The consensus among biographers is that “for the next few years he was associated with a notorious gang of hoodlums and lived a debauched life.” 

            At the age of seventeen he attended a meeting where George Whitefield was preaching.  Robinson and his friends went for the purpose of ‘scoffing at the poor, deluded Methodists.’  However, Whitefield’s strong evangelistic preaching so impressed young Robinson that he was converted to Christ.  Several years later he felt called to preach and entered the ministry of the Methodist Church.  Subsequently, he left the Methodist Church when he moved to Cambridge and became a Baptist pastor.  Here he became known as an able theologian through his writing of many theological works as well as several hymns.”

            Robinson wrote the text of this hymn when he was only 23 years of age. 

            The reference to being “prone to wander…” seems to have been auto-biographical – or perhaps prophetic.  In his later years Robinson reverted to some of his youthful habits, “characterized by lapses into sin and unstableness.”

            As if to punctuate that spiritual wanderlust, the story is told that “Robinson was one day riding a stagecoach when he noticed a woman deeply engrossed with a hymn book.  During an ensuing conversation the lady turned to Robinson and asked what he thought of the hymn she was humming.  Robinson burst into tears and said, ‘Madam, I am the poor unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago, and I would give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy the feelings I had then.’”[1]

            All of which is to say that the hymn with which we will be living for the next several weeks did not waft from the rarefied air of spiritual purity, but rather the honest strugglings of a man very much like ourselves:  a person whose ideals and aspirations did not always work themselves out in practice, and who therefore found himself perpetually in need of repair and renewal. 

            Among the hymn's other, hopefully more substantive attributes, the hymn has, through the generations, spawned a kind of Trivial Pursuits fascination and curiosity over what could be its most memorable line:  Here I raise mine Ebenezer…And we will get to that – later in the season – but for now I will keep you in suspense with the questions of “who – or what – is Ebenezer, and why are we raising him?”  Presently I am more interested in a different phrase, lifted from the first verse of the hymn, that I believe perfectly captures the real work of Lent:  Tune My Heart to Sing Thy Grace.  Tune my heart. 

            It is, as I mused with the good folk who attended the Wednesday midday service, primarily a musical term in my personal phrasebook. As a noun it is used to refer to the actual notes that string together to create an actual “tune”.  As a verb it is used to refer to the adjustment of an instrument to a correct or given standard of pitch, or the bringing something – or someone – into harmony.  

            But if you aren't all that musical, that's fine, because it is also a mechanical term – referring to the adjustment of an engine, for example, into proper functioning; a “tune-up” so to speak.  And radio operators “tune” their receivers to make them compatible with certain broadcast frequencies – “tuning in” they might describe it. 

            The hymn, then, can suit us all – musical, mechanical, or audiophile.  Tuning.  Tuning in, tuning up, or getting “in tune,” the various metaphors all agree on a single truth:  sometimes we get out of tune.  Sometimes the static is all we hear, and sometimes our character displays – our behaviors, our language, our aspirations and our longings – find themselves in decided dissonance with the longings of God and the example of Jesus, and we can either just remain there, getting further and further out of tune and into the static, or we can pay closer attention to the harmonics and make the necessary adjustments.

            Even in those times when we may not be far off, it’s important to “bang the tuning fork” to get a sounding – the auditory equivalent of “true north.”

                        Tune my heart to sing thy grace.

            Sometimes such moments come at a time not of our choosing.  In that Old Testament story of David with which we began, it wasn't David's own remorse that brought about his repentance, but the indictment of his trusted friend and advisor Samuel.  And in another, quite different story, Jesus had no sooner dried off from his baptism in the River Jordan, according to the gospels, than the Spirit of God “drove him into the wilderness” for a time of testing.  It wasn’t at all, we are led to believe, to cause him to fail, but rather as it is with strenuous calisthenics, to strengthen him so that he wouldn’t; or, like a cardiac stress test, to help reveal those areas that could fail, and take whatever steps might be necessary to prevent it.

            In our case, it isn't Samuel holding us accountable or the Holy Spirit's unique diversion as much as it is the season itself – the church's gift to us each year – that draws us into prayerful reflection and critique and discernment:  this prayer that God will take the pegs of our heart strings and turn them into tune; that God will tweak our wanting and our doing to rid them of knocks and backfires and spluttering stops; that God will speak to us in tones we can adequately, clearly hear if we are to be the disciples God seeks and we desire us to be. 

            This, then, is the work of these days – but, then, more truthfully the prayer of our lives:

            Come, thou fount of every blessing; tune my heart to sing thy grace.

 

 

 

 



[1]              Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories (Grand Rapids:  Kregel Publications, 1982) p. 52.